


flowers turn gold

by idlesong



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26641267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idlesong/pseuds/idlesong
Summary: The day after the king’s funeral, the crown prince’s bed is empty. Out amidst the trees, Mark’s determined to leave the kingdom behind, but Yuta won’t let him.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 18
Kudos: 108





	flowers turn gold

**Author's Note:**

> **cw:** mentions of physical abuse through corporal punishment

The sun barely peeks over the tops of the trees, still bright against the sky in its murky shade of blue, soon to turn over into warmer hours. Sol trots forward with caution, the uneven terrain of the forest ground an unfamiliar sensation. Yuta strokes the side of Sol's neck to give the horse some encouragement to vantage further.

If his memory serves him correctly he'll find what he's looking for soon—a secluded log cabin in a clearing that faces a field of tiger lilies. So many stories about the house and its floral neighbours had vividly fed the memory of his one prior visit. He had always thought he would have liked to come again. He would have thought otherwise if he knew of the circumstances that compelled him out here this morning.

The approaching thicket is too dense for Sol to get past herself, so Yuta opts to dismount and withdraw the machete from the sheath at his hip. Holding Sol's reins in one hand, he cuts through the overgrown shrubbery in the necessary places to get the both of them through, careful not to attract too much noise. He also keeps an eye to the ground, just in case there are any traps for small game laying around.

Past a certain point he encounters more branches and bushes that have already been torn. He must be getting closer. The sky's lightened up considerably by now, but the sun has yet to make its full appearance. If he still hasn't found the cabin by the time it does, he'll have to turn back. He doesn't want to overexert Sol. They had made several trying trips around the kingdom in the past few days.

Her footfalls are clumsier as they make their way around a larger tree, a wide perimeter of roots surrounding their feet. Yuta feels a smooth moss beneath his fingertips as he steadies himself on the tree trunk, taking care not to trip.

There's a small opening between the trees just up ahead. With haste Yuta moves towards it, Sol plodding along at the same pace. The path opens up into a clearing. It has a wooden house, a field of orange speckled flowers, and—

"Mark."

It’s barely been a month since Yuta's last seen him, but Mark looks different by virtue of being removed from the environment in which Yuta's always seen him. Out of his heavy, velvet robes and without a doting palace assistant trailing behind him, Mark seems like an ordinary man.

Yuta knows Mark resents that he isn't.

"Yuta." Any loss of composure Mark might be feeling isn't evident in his face. He's holding several chopped logs in his arms, presumably for firewood. When he registers Yuta's presence he lets the wood tumble onto the ground and runs to him.

Even though Yuta knows better, he opens his arms. Mark's embrace brings him into the daylight.

Mark wears a smile of mild embarrassment as he cuts around the burnt crust of the bread, unevenly baked in the fire that Yuta had thought looked too strong. He didn't say anything about it though, didn’t want to disturb his view of watching Mark joyfully knead several parts of dough.

"I snuck into the kitchen once and got Taeil to teach me," he explains as he cuts the salvageable parts of the bread into even slices. "It was a long time ago."

Yuta knows Taeil. He's been working in the kitchen since he was a teenager, although most of the meals he prepared back then were for the lower level staff of the palace, like Yuta. His food was still delicious. If he could manage to snag an extra pastry from dessert, he would bring it to Mark wrapped in a cloth napkin. Mark never seemed to mind if it was cold or stale—he never got to have anything sweet, except on special occasions, but sweet things were his favourite.

The wild cranberries that freckle his bread suggests that things haven't changed. Yuta knows better. When Mark offers him a piece, he solemnly shakes his head. Mark doesn't acknowledge the gesture and gives him a slice anyway.

Yuta knows Mark is being selectively silent. Everything Mark's said since he encountered Yuta outside were remarks about daily mundanities, a comment about how Sol's looking as strong as always, and now, the question of whether Yuta's been doing well.

The inside of the cabin is essentially one large room, the furnishings giving the place a cozy atmosphere tucked into this corner of the forest. There's a serviceable wood fire oven, a comfortable-looking bed, and a well-maintained table upon which Mark is casually eating his homemade bread, as if nothing is wrong.

Yuta is seething. He's given little response to Mark's many attempts at starting small talk. If he has to bring it up himself he will, but he worries that if he tries right now, his anger will erupt.

Mark knows better. Yuta is sure Mark must know how he's feeling, as much as he's trying to ignore it right now. He's still trying to maintain a smile and continue looking towards Yuta as though he might catch him doing something other than distantly staring back.

Mark pushes his platter away from him. "Are you mad at me?" he asks, his line of sight flitting from the ground and snapping back to him several times.

Yuta blinks back. "Of course I'm fucking mad at you."

"I'm sorry, Yuta—"

"You're sorry?" Yuta raises his voice higher than he means to, so he takes a beat to take it down. "I thought you might have been _dead_ , Mark. The guards were about to start looking for your body in the river. And now you're just here baking bread like nothing's wrong. How could I not be mad?"

Mark lets out a deep breath. He must have expected this had anyone come to find him, especially Yuta. "I know. I'm sorry," he says with a dropping volume. "But you know why I did this."

"I do," Yuta says calmly. "But why didn't you tell me? Do you care about me so little?"

Mark looks hurt by the question, but Yuta can't feel sympathy for him right now, not when he's been looking for Mark for a month and he has nothing to say for it.

"They were already looking for the next-in-line. Do you know how hard it was to stop them?"

"Why would you do that?"

"Because you're not dead, Mark!" This time Yuta doesn't bother lowering his volume. "Do you think I could really stand by and let them sign your death certificate when you might still be out there?"

"That's what I want," Mark says, with quiet firmness.

Yuta sighs, some of the anger withdrawing from his voice. "You're going to be the king, Mark."

"I don't want to be." Mark looks at him resolutely. "I hate the kingdom."

Yuta falls back on this; he can't argue with how Mark feels. "You still didn't tell me."

"You would have stopped me."

“I might have," Yuta says quietly. "Or I would have gone with you."

Mark looks shocked. "But you—" _You love the kingdom_ , he was probably about to say. But Yuta's loyalty lies more with the person who was to sit on the throne than the throne itself.

"I wasn't obligated to pledge my allegiance to the monarchy," Yuta says, drawing closer to Mark. "Just you. It's always just been you, Mark."

The expression that crosses Mark's face is one of bewilderment. Whenever Yuta sees it he's fascinated with how Mark, who has everything, could still experience the world with so much curiosity and intrigue. For as long as they've known each other, Mark can still be surprised with Yuta's commitments. They were kept secret for years, but Yuta's affections have always been blatant in his devotion.

"I'm sorry I left." Mark's voice is soft—Yuta thinks about how he so rarely gets to hear it away from the castle's commotion. In this house tucked away between all of the trees it's just Mark. Not the crown prince, but the young man upon whose shoulders sits the responsibility of the world. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I missed you so much,” Yuta admits. “I thought I might never see you again.”

“I’m so sorry,” is all Mark says before Yuta leans forward to kiss him, dispelling from the atmosphere any more apologetic burdens for now. Mark sighs into his open mouth, arms curling around Yuta to hold him suffocatingly close. In the time they’ve been apart, Yuta realizes that Mark must have been suffering far more than he was.

When Mark had started etiquette training in his early teens he had laughed off the idea with Yuta. They poked fun at what it could possibly entail as they took the horses around the perimeter of the castle grounds. Mark had laughed as he always had, and Yuta held faith in that. But weeks later Mark was despondent.

The change was immediately discernible, even in the early evening's waning light in the cordoned off stables. "What's wrong?" Yuta asked as he brushed through Sol's mane.

There were circles beneath Mark's usual bright eyes, hardly noticeable once one saw the angry red lashes on his inner forearms. "Everything I do is wrong," he said. "But I don't know why."

Their relationship was never meant to stay the same. Mark was born into a responsibility bearing a greater importance than himself. Yuta knew that they had their own roles to fulfill. Yuta's was inconsequential, and he revolved around Mark's.

They grew up but Yuta was allowed to let himself out. He didn't have many complaints with how his life turned out. With no family and little schooling he did what he could for himself. He kept his mind going with any texts made available to him and he kept his hands busy with any work he could get. In adolescence he worked as a page, mostly, until the constable assigned him to the stables after seeing how well he took to them.

It was only through good fortune that the chamberlain had appointed Yuta to his permanent position. He became Mark’s attendant, although this hardly felt like work when all he had to do was follow the prince to his engagements. If not for Mark’s company, Yuta would have felt idle.

His experience with the horses allowed him to lead Mark’s weekly equestrian lesson himself. After the designated hour of training he took Mark to the ends of the castle grounds as they used to as children, but it wasn't quite the same. Mark seemed to have grown up faster than Yuta, whose world got smaller every year.

The country’s fields looked endless when they rode together. Mark would suggest that they stray further and further each time. Yuta complied when he could but he had to coax him to head back before dinner. The meal wouldn’t start without him.

In the morning, Yuta lets Mark sleep in. He wonders if Mark has ever felt well-rested. For all of the dissatisfactions Mark has about his role, he effortlessly played the part. Even the members of the castle who saw him every day view him as nothing but Mark the model prince, diligent and well-respected and duly devoted to all of his royal responsibilities. For that the castle's staff were in uproar when his bed was found empty.

The idyllic circumstances of this new home are not enough to do away with Yuta's worries, but he swallows any verbalization of his concerns. Isn't this always what he's wanted? Mark seems happy, moving about with a youthful buoyancy that he had lost far too early.

As Yuta stares at his sleeping face now he thinks that this is too easy, somehow. The castle would surely be seeking out the next-in-line now, traced to an infant child in a faraway realm who would have to be supervised by a regent until they came of age. They would inherit the calamity that Mark left behind, perhaps take to the duty with more fervour than their predecessors ever did.

Is it then that Mark would finally feel free?

Mark loves gazing at the tiger lilies. When they're on their return route from collecting firewood or checking their traps, Mark stops and stares at the fields of golden speckled flowers. Joy trickles onto Mark’s face. Yuta thinks that Mark's world must have been devoid of colour for so long.

“I feel bad for Sol,” Mark comments one afternoon as he runs a hand against the horse’s muzzle. “Are we keeping her from her friends?”

Yuta sets down a pail of water. "She has been acting a little strange," he muses, patting Sol's mane gently to urge her to drink. "She hasn't been eating very well."

"Should we return her?" Mark frowns. Out of everything they talked of the past few days, neither of them had considered what to do going forward.

“I’m not sure whether I’d be able to return her without anyone noticing me. I didn’t say anything before I left.”

"Why not?" Mark asks.

Yuta doesn't respond immediately, but the shared pause is enough to push forward the topic they had been purposefully avoiding. "I intended to bring you back," he says, and he startles at how quickly Mark's eyes ignite.

"And now?"

The question's a trap: the answer hangs in the awkward air between them but Yuta answers him anyway.

"Nothing has changed."

"Does it mean nothing to you that I left in the first place?" Mark’s voice is quiet, bitter. "You, of all people, should know how much I wanted to leave. I saw what the kingdom did to my mother. I'm scared it'll do that to _me_.”

Yuta lets out a deep exhale. "I would never want to hurt you.”

"Then why are you challenging me?" Mark sounds angry, but Yuta knows him to raise his voice with supposed ire when he feels defensive. It's been this way since they were both kids. Mark is intimidating when this upset, but with good reason.

Whenever he exceeds the limits of proper etiquette he speaks louder, bracing himself for whatever hurt that he had been conditioned to receive for his indignation. He reflexively tucks his arms behind his back, and Yuta's heart aches for him.

"I want you to be happy," Yuta says resolutely. As painful as it is for him to disappoint Mark he would much rather be honest than spare his feelings. "But the people need you. You're the only person who can guide them."

"The people don't need me." Mark shakes his head. "They've never even wanted me. I'm just the anomaly of the family, aren't I? A peasant concubine’s son who doesn't deserve to be king?”

“Of course not, Mark—“

“It’s true. I’ve heard how they speak of me when they think I’m not listening.”

The whispers around the castle had been unbearably loud when his mother died. There was no funeral, no burial, no proper headstone, but the lack of ceremony was made up for by all of the commotion. They said it was illness.

Mark’s mother hadn't been the queen, but she was still considered royalty—not that many had cared to think of her as such. From every one of Yuta's memories, though, she had been a kind person. The people of the castle had maintained an unsettling silence since she died.

It didn’t seem like a moment of mourning. It felt tense. It seemed as though no one dared to speak above a whisper in the last several days. The harsh rumours exchanged through the whispers made up for their volume.

Mark refused to leave his bed. He banned all staff from entering his quarters. He wanted the privacy. He wanted Yuta next to him as they slept.

Yuta hadn't asked any questions when Mark had asked him one morning to bring Sol around. As the two of them rode away from the castle grounds, Mark said nothing but some directive statements as they made their way through the forest's wide expanse of trees. Yuta still questioned nothing when they came upon a wooden house beside a field of tiger lilies. No one answered the door.

In the evening they sat at the top of a nearby hill that would allow them to view the expanse of the kingdom. The waning days had made way for harsher winds, but made more hours available to their clandestine encounters. Mark was to become of age soon, and its burden rested his mind at the junction of acceptance and anguish.

"I don't know what to do," Mark said, sitting with his knees to his chest.

"I'm sorry about your mother," Yuta whispered, his arm wrapped around Mark's shoulder as their bodies leaned against each other. His shoulders rose sharply as a cold gust blew past them.

Mark's eyes were closed, prompting Yuta to wonder if he had fallen asleep after several restless nights. But he defied this presumption when he wearily said, "They lied."

"What do you mean?" Yuta asked, watching the way Mark's eyes languidly blinked open.

Yuta felt his sleeve grow wet as Mark worked up the courage to admit, “She ran away.”

The body of fire grows as Yuta feeds it in silence. Once they had reached an impasse in their argument outside, Mark muttered he was going on a walk and headed back towards the trees. Yuta didn’t stop him. He needs the space to think too.

He can argue with Mark’s logic, but not with how he feels. As much as he tries to, he can’t begin to empathize with Mark, who’s entitled to the highest authority in the country, but always feels powerless. The whole staff was on call for him but he only had their compulsory respect. Many people showed him more kindness than that, but the more traditional nobles frowned upon anything greater. It was immutable: Mark was supposed to become the king one day, and the king is untouchable.

Mark once said to Yuta that his father was the king in every role he occupied—including as his father. He only interacted with Mark when necessary, never using his name without his title. He was an effective ruler but not at all a parent.

Mark never spoke of him with reverence, only unease. He doesn’t want to be like him. Yuta doesn’t want that either, but he doesn’t think it’s the only option.

The door creaks open. Mark enters, is quick to look for Yuta in the room, and his expression softens when he sees him.

Yuta beckons Mark to sit across from him at the table. “Can we talk?”

Mark complies, resting his elbows on the tabletop. “I don’t have any more to say.”

“Then listen to me. I won’t pretend to understand everything you’re feeling, but you shouldn’t run from your responsibilities without considering what’s at stake. The people _do_ need you. Not just the people of the castle, but everyone in the country. You’re the best person to lead them.”

“You don’t know that,” Mark refutes.

“I do,” Yuta says firmly. “I’ve been by your side this whole time. You care about the people. You know what’s best for them. Will you be okay letting them endure hardship because you aren’t there for them?”

Mark’s hands curl into fists. “What about what _I’ve_ endured? I’ve tried to be what they wanted my whole life and I was never happy. They always wanted me to be better. I can’t take it—I need the scrutiny to stop.”

“But can you be happy alone?" Yuta asks, his voice soft.

"Alone?" Mark echoes, before his expression shifts into something darker. “Are you leaving me?”

“I never meant to stay,” Yuta reminds him. “I can’t force you to leave but I won’t enable you either.”

“That’s not fair—“

“If you’re going to be selfish, you have to be selfish alone,” Yuta snaps. It’s unlike him to raise his voice so quickly, but without his realizing, his own feelings on the matter have begun to boil over. “If you’re not the prince then I’m not your attendant.”

Mark swiftly turns his cheek, as though he was just slapped. Yuta’s stomach twists at the reaction, at the explicit hurt he didn’t mean to cause.

“My _attendant_?” Mark repeats with incredulity, slowly turning his head back to Yuta. “Is that all our relationship is to you?”

Yuta shakes his head, pulls back on the frustration that had been building in his voice. “Of course it’s not. But I can’t stay and watch you act this way.”

“I thought you said you would have come here with me if I had asked,” Mark says quietly.

“I would have, but not to stay forever. I love you, but other people _need_ you.”

"If you love me, why don't you want me to be happy?" Tears have started to sting Mark's eyes, but he holds his gaze. "We could finally be happy here, together.”

Yuta smiles sadly. “I can’t be happy here, even with you. There’s nothing for us here.”

Mark’s exhale is shaky, the sound of his breath sputtering in sync with his chest. “When are you leaving?”

When Yuta hesitates to answer, Mark gets out of his seat and approaches him. Even as he leans forward, he’s looking for a response in Yuta’s eyes. Mark always asks, even as someone who’s been promised everything already.

“Not until morning,” Mark whispers. If he said it any louder it would have sounded too much like a plea. “Please.”

Yuta nods. Mark presses their lips together, reaches for his wrists to impatiently pull him out of his seat and press him against the edge of the table. It’s against Yuta’s better judgment to let this happen but he doesn’t want to say otherwise.

He had just omitted the truth; he needs Mark too.

The table wobbles under the pressure of their bodies, held together by the wound-up frenzy of their desperation. Mark’s arms are tight around Yuta as he leads them to the bed in a hurried sequence of footsteps. Their mouths are still locked together even as Mark falls onto his back, but Yuta’s careful to cradle the back of his head in his hands.

As Yuta trails his lips along Mark’s neck, he thinks about how in spite of all his deference to others’ commands, Mark’s remains an advocate for his own desires. Even when his face flushes and his voice grows meek he directs Yuta where to touch him. He contains a gasp when Yuta does as he asks. It’s all the etiquette training that makes Mark hold back such reactions.

But it spurs Yuta on. It’s always been a challenge to fully unravel Mark, even when he knows what he wants with so much clarity. He’s always seemingly so in control of everything he does, has tried to be perfect in every way so he would live up to the expectations set for him.

After taking off their clothing, Yuta somehow feels warmer, so delirious even from their bare chests pressed together. Back home it wasn’t just behind closed doors, but doors that were locked and guarded and kept secret from the rest of the world. In all their caution, they were rarely afforded the opportunity to take their time. He gets lost in wanting to go slowly.

Mark fidgets even from slight movements, anticipatory of each action to put out the sparks of tension pulsing on the surface of his skin. “Yuta. Please.” His eyes are glazed over, shiny with either want or sadness.

The cordiality wasn’t so much learned as it was inherent to Mark’s nature. Yuta can live with that; far be it for him to change Mark. Yuta loves him as he is, especially when he gets to see him coming undone.

Every time Mark sobs Yuta’s name, muffled into parted lips, Yuta thinks that contrary to what Mark believes, he doesn’t need to try to be perfect.

The sky’s barely blue when Yuta decides he should get out of bed. Sleep was reluctant to arrive, especially with the weight of Mark’s body next to his. He didn’t want it to be the last time.

They had been holding hands all night. Yuta remembers a time when Mark’s hand felt small in his. They’re almost the same size now but Mark’s hands are still different. Yuta can feel the smooth, uncalloused skin underneath the pads of his fingers, so unlike his own. He had always relied on his hands to make his living.

Mark, though, had been taught to work with everything he had in his possession. He had been told to strive for perfection in every task. He had to withstand every remark made against his character. He had to persist despite an all-consuming loneliness.

And it isn’t Yuta’s place to force him back. Who is he to decide what’s best for him?

Yuta had lied to him. He _could_ be happy with him here, living a simple life away from all of the heinous things outside that gave Mark self-doubt. But that would be selfish of him. He doesn’t believe that Mark could be happy, even removed from the ruinous atmosphere of the castle. Mark is meant to do so much more.

It’s not fair of Yuta to stay here because _he_ needs Mark, not when so many others do too. His only argument is that he might need Mark the most out of everyone. But he can’t keep him for himself in good conscience. It’s not right, even if it’s all he’s ever wanted.

Mark’s duty has always been clear. He is supposed to be king because it’s his birthright. The people will adore him because he values being a good person before his royal title. He would rather be loved than respected, so long as he loves back just as much.

But if Mark decides that this is where he wants to be, Yuta won’t be able to convince him otherwise. He wonders whether this is what Mark really wants.

Mark has always been driven by his ambitions, has known what his goals were, and has only faltered at the impossible expectations of those around him. Perhaps it was inevitable that he would run away from it all.

Yuta still doesn’t want to say goodbye. But if he leaves before Mark wakes up, he won’t have to.

It’s quiet this morning, save for the occasional chitter of a woodland creature startled by the sight of Sol’s feet trotting forward in the dirt. Yuta wishes he had left earlier. Travelling east at sunrise is demanding on his eyes. He keeps shifting his gaze downward to avoid staring at the light.

The wind is strong today, making the chilly air of the early morning even brisker than usual. It would makes him bristle if not for the pair of arms wrapped around his waist, another body’s warmth pressing into his back.

“How much further is it?” Mark asks, the latter half of his question muffled by a yawn.

“Not much,” Yuta answers. This could be futile. He had gently shaken Mark awake, his mind clouded by an unsound determination, and asked to take him somewhere before he left.

“ _Where_ is it?” Mark only agreed to go so long as this wasn’t a ploy to take him back.

“It’s just a little further. Be patient.” Yuta feels Mark press his forehead against his back this time, making a soft noise of discontent that he would find cute in a different scenario.

Yuta has yet to admit that he has no idea where he’s taking them. They’re going in the general direction of the kingdom, but he has no intention to bring him back without Mark’s consent. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave him just yet, even though he said he wouldn’t stay. Now he’s gone too far to take him back for nothing.

“Wait,” Mark says, lifting his head from Yuta’s back. “Stop.”

Yuta tugs at Sol’s reins, making her obediently pause in her tracks. They’ve only just made it to the top of a grassy hill, one that overlooks the kingdom which resides far in the distance and is tucked beneath the horizon. This view is vaguely familiar, Yuta thinks as Mark begins to dismount.

After tying Sol’s reins to the nearest tree, Yuta approaches Mark, who’s already sat cross-legged facing home. The grass still feels damp from the morning dew as Yuta takes his spot next to him.

Mark’s gaze is distant. Yuta can’t tell what he’s thinking, but staring out at the same image from this angle brings forth the recollection. They had come here before, on the day they went to look for Mark’s mother.

“What do you see?” Yuta asks.

Mark’s response isn’t immediate, but he eventually answers, “The country.”

“You can’t see them from where we are, but there are people in the country too. It’s not just the houses and the structures and the big stone building overlooking it all. There are people amidst it all. People that need you.”

“I don’t hate the kingdom. I still care about it. I don’t think I could ever stop,” Mark says quietly. “But what if I screw it all up? I’m nothing like my father.”

“You’re not, and you don’t have to be. The people only knew hardship under him. If you had been there…” Yuta trails off with purpose—regardless of his opinion on the matter it didn’t feel proper to badmouth the former king. “You would have seen what they thought. The people were looking forward to your ascension.”

Mark redirects his eyes to Yuta. “I’m not ready. I wasn’t ready for him to just die all of a sudden and leave it behind to me. He never thought I was good enough but he had no other choice.”

“Did you ever think _he_ was a good king?”

“No. He was too scared of other people to help them. All he did was try to make other people fear him too.” Mark pauses, gathering the nerve to continue. “I wondered if that’s why my mom ran away without me. Because she was scared of him. Or scared that _I_ was already like him.”

“Mark—“ Yuta reaches out for one of his hands. “You don’t know that.”

“Then why didn’t she take me?”

Noticing the rise and quiver of Mark’s voice, Yuta moves in closer to him, releasing his hand and opting to put an arm around him instead. “I can’t tell you why. But you managed to move forward, even if you haven’t moved past it yet. Now you’re here, and you can still change your mind. The kingdom’s still there for you.”

Mark leans his head on Yuta’s shoulder and lets out a deep sigh. “I want to do it for the people. There are people there I still love—people who showed me more compassion than I was taught to receive, people who treated me like I was just a person. Everyone who lives there seems like they’re meant to be who they are. Everyone except me.”

“You’re meant to be king, if you decide you want to be,” Yuta reminds him. “I know it’s more responsibility than should fall on one person, but you could do so much _good_ for everyone. You could find a new kind of freedom in your role.”

“What about you?” Mark asks.

“Well, I’m sticking around unless you’re planning on firing me,” Yuta says with a grin. “And if you do, I’m going to take all the horses and stage an equestrian revolt.”

Mark, unable to help it, breaks out into a smile too. “No, I mean what about us?” he asks, reaching out to squeeze Yuta’s hand. “We can’t hide forever.”

“Well…When the time comes, if you want me to leave my position, I will. I’ll find work somewhere else and we’ll stay friends.” It had weighed on Yuta’s mind for years. Although their relationship had always been more of a liability on Mark’s part than his own, it was always going to fall on Yuta to be the one to go.

“Why are you talking about leaving your position?” Mark raises his head to sit up properly and look at Yuta. “And why are you talking about staying friends? I don’t want to break up.”

“We’re not exactly in the position to stay together either, Mark,” Yuta says. “I’ll be okay—I’ve been thinking about this since even before we were together, back when I was ineptly crushing on the most unattainable person in the world. I always thought that if I was ever lucky enough for you to ever look at me the same I looked at you, I wouldn’t complain when it had to end.”

For the first time today, Mark looks at Yuta with an expression that isn’t of woe, but of disbelief. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Yuta. I’m not planning on letting you go,” he says earnestly. “I’m not doing this without you. I _can’t_ do this without you. You’ve been by my side for as long as I can remember. How could I let go of that? I won’t let it happen.”

“You’re the one who said we can’t hide forever. How is it going to look if I’m still your attendant?” Yuta thinks that Mark, out of everyone in the kingdom, would know how impossible it can be to avoid the malicious idle talk. “As liberal-minded as the people could become, it would still be improper.”

“It’s always been improper, whether they knew it or not,” Mark says, a twinkle in his eye. “I’ve never considered breaking up, ever. But I’ve thought about what would happen. I have another offer for you instead, if you’re interested in it.”

“I’ll take it if it means that you’ll come back with me.”

Mark’s eyes are shiny when he finally says, “Let’s go home, Yuta.”

The commotion of Mark’s disappearance is only outdone by his return. There’s far too much explaining needed to be done to the royal advisors and the castle staff, but Mark handles it with as much delicacy and efficiency as it needs. It’s unsurprising to everyone but him, and least of all Yuta, that he falls into the role with little turbulence.

When addressing the people to announce the date of his coronation, Mark vows to prioritize being a good leader over being a powerful one. He promises to just be a person to his subjects, instead of the untouchable sovereign that his predecessors were. He declares that he wants change.

Yuta watches the speech from the room behind the balcony on which Mark stands. He beams with pride.

The actual event approaches them with trepidation. It was only an official transference of title, had no impact on what Mark had already begun to accomplish in the weeks since his homecoming. Still, it weighed on Mark’s mind that this would demarcate his family history. The eyes of his predecessors felt like pins in his back.

Yuta does his best to pick out the judgments and soothe the wounds with adoring reassurances. He’s nervous too, but he puts away his own reservations. His will pass with time.

The primping and preening of regal events remains an aspect of monarchy that Mark will never get used to, but Yuta gently encourages him to revel in it. Today is about Mark, after all—which Yuta continues to remind himself to quell his own anxiety. He dutifully follows Mark from room to room in the seemingly never-endless routine of getting ready.

Moments before the event is upon them, Mark asks for the room to be cleared. Yuta stays behind, smiles at Mark as he fits on his new robes.

“These are so heavy,” Mark complains, stretching his arms out from under the red fabric. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it through the whole walk to the throne.”

“I’ll carry you the rest of the way if I have to. And then you’ll only have to wear them every once in a while,” Yuta says as he approaches Mark, observing his appearance in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. “You look good.”

“Really?” Mark asks with an incredulous laugh. “Because I feel like I’m swimming in these clothes.”

“Anyone would. It’s practically a cape made of carpet,” Yuta assures him, leaning against the ornate frame of the mirror. “I’m not used to seeing you like this, but it suits you. I think you look best with nothing at all though.”

Mark, face flushed, points an accusatory finger at Yuta. “Quit flirting. I’m too busy trying not to think about how I might trip in front of the whole country.”

“When you give me that kind of reaction every time, I can’t help it,” Yuta says with a grin. He doesn’t take the moment for granted. He won’t be surprised if Mark’s first decree as king is dissolving the tradition of wearing royal clothing to public events. “You really do look good. Very kingly. The look will be complete when they put that crown on your head.”

“Well, you look good too. I always thought regal garments would suit you.”

“I’ll wear them all the time if you want me to.” Yuta takes a step forward, gently lifts up Mark’s chin with a curled thumb and forefinger. “You’re going to do great.”

Mark meets Yuta halfway by leaning forward to kiss him. “Thank you,” he whispers as they pull apart. The smile Yuta gives in return instils him with renewed determination.

“I think it’s about time. Are you ready?” Yuta asks, resting a hand on Mark’s shoulder.

Mark crosses his left hand over to lay on top of Yuta’s, their ring fingers adorned with identical gold bands. “I am. Are you?”

**Author's Note:**

> oh to be riding into a sunrise on a horse with mark lee's arms wrapped around your waist.
> 
> hi i started writing this during kick it era when yumark tensions were HIGH. and they still are, god bless. 
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/idle_song) | [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/idlesong)


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